


Cherry Wine and Autumn Leaves

by enc0432



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bad Poetry, Cherry Wine, F/M, Fluff, Not Even a Taste of Despair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:41:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enc0432/pseuds/enc0432
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blackwall steals a moment with his lady. For my best friend with the prompt "reading in the shade of a tree."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Wine and Autumn Leaves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheFaye92](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFaye92/gifts).



Blackwall found her in her quarters, frowning at a pile of paperwork. He smiled to himself as he leaned on the doorframe. Even with the frown and slight wrinkle to her brow as she focused, she was achingly beautiful, eyes bright and as blue as the clear sky. 

“Little bird.” 

Genevieve glanced up, favoring him with a quick smile before returning to work. “Do you remember how much elfroot I said should go into that new regeneration potion? Leliana and Cullen want the recipe for their scouts…” 

She trailed off as he crossed the room, going to stand behind the chair and squeeze her shoulders. She sighed into his touch, leaning back and closing her eyes. 

“I hate these but they must be done.” 

Blackwall smiled into her hair before reaching over and tossing sand on the fresh ink. “Not right now. Come with me. You’ve been cooped up far too long m’lady.” 

She reached up and squeezed his hand, graceful fingers warm and strong for all of their thinness. But she shook her head. 

“I can’t.” 

“Little bird.” 

She laughed lightly, leaning back to look up at him. “I must admit passing time with you is a far more appealing prospect.” 

“Then pass time with me.” 

She seemed decided, getting to her feet. On a whim he grabbed her hand, kissing the back of it briefly before letting it go. She reached out with ink-stained fingers, tracing his cheek for a moment. A bright bubble seemed to form in his chest at the delicate touch. Then he grabbed her cloak for her, wrapping it around her shoulders. She tilted her head. 

“Where are we going?” 

“It’s not a surprise if I tell you.” 

She smiled again, analyzing him for a moment before nodding. Eager he led the way to the courtyard where Fiend and Warden were saddled. The dracolisk was making his handler cower, only soothed when Genevieve gripped his neck firmly, making him bob his head in joy. Blackwall was never going to understand the beast, but Genevieve seemed fond enough of him. The ride wasn’t long, but the change in Genevieve made his heart ache. She tilted her head back to the sun, the frown on her brow easing. He tried to be mindful of the fact she had spent her life caged, getting her outside as often as possible. Mostly for the soft smiles she rewarded him with as a result, and the slight freckles he lived to kiss. 

It didn’t take long to reach the small grove. Genevieve looked around with joy at the frost-resistant flowers that grew here, hardy and tough as the mountain they grew out of. The grove was filled with the golden afternoon light, a blanket spread under the shade of the tree complete with a new book for Genevieve and a picnic. It was a simple thing he felt, but the way her face lit up sent warmth pooling in his belly. 

“Blackwall this is…” She turned and grabbed his hands, leading him away from Warden’s side. “This is amazing.” 

She kissed his cheek before making a beeline for the book. He laughed, going to sit at the base of the tree, pressing his back to the trunk. Genevieve scooted back, so that she was pressed to his chest and he could wrap his arms around her as she read. They were surrounded by the highest mountains, the trees fully flushed with autumn, the sky the purest blue he had ever seen. None of it mattered as much as Genevieve’s soft hair tickling his nose, the warmth of her pressed closed to him, and the bright lilt to her voice as she read the book of poetry. He pressed a kiss to her temple, taking a moment to focus on her words. 

“Though the harsh winter is around me, and death backs me into corners where all dark things linger. Even when the cold notion of the Maker’s abandonment strikes heavy in my heart, I am left without fear,without anger. For the sweetness of your breath guides me home, the honey of your lips gives me sustenance…And I am not abandoned when my thoughts linger upon you.” 

There it was, the tightness in his chest, the ache of his love for her. She settled more firmly back into him, reaching to cup his chin and kiss him. She tasted of mint tea. Genevieve murmured softly against his lips as she pulled back. 

“Thank you my love.” 

He smiled reaching across from her for the skien of wine. “For you little bird, anything.” 

She beamed and settled more firmly against him, accepting a sip of wine before lifting the book again to the next poem. 

“There is music here. I can hear it now. In the rustle of the golden wheat, in the rushing of the river waters, in the silence of the night as I look to the stars. With your hand in mine….” 

She continued to read to him and he relaxed. That was their afternoon, cherry wine and poetry. He kept Genevieve wrapped in his arms, and knew he had never deserved such happiness, but he would take it anyways. 


End file.
